Scaled-down missile operations threaten Southern Isles

With one in six jobs due to go, islanders fear their fragile economy will be shattered

The sun is beating down on the western coast of South Uist. The beach is black with fermenting seaweed, releasing its pungent odour into the wind. Above an anonymous grey metal building, two terns are circling. Their yelping protests break the silence in this most remote corner of the military industrial complex. Today they are the only residents of the island's missile-testing station, known as "the range".

Residents are informed of range activity by a notice beside the derelict phone box at the top of the road. In case a cow has eaten that, warning lights flash when the range is active. Any German cyclists or middle-aged picnickers not bothered by the seaweed smell, who have inadvertently wandered into the line of fire, are rounded up and asked to leave.

The Pentagon it is not. Range Head consists of a grey metal shed, a smaller metal structure strapped down onto